The dramatic death of Carl McCunn

THE DRAMATIC DEATH OF CARL McCUNN: Christopher McCandless on his own tracks?

by Kyt Lyn Walken

In survival stories, food often plays the role of narrative pivot: food as a source of energy, as a dream and a nightmare together. As an element taken for granted – especially in the most advanced civilizations – and as an essence that can restore the strength to fight again. In the history of Mauro Prosperi, which I dealt with in a previous article (https://www.completefood.it/en/surviving-in-the-desert-the-incredible-story-of-mauro-prosperi/), a bat, however disgusting to most , represented, at that particular juncture, a chance for salvation.

This time it will be the story – bitter and ruthless – of photographer Carl McCunn to teach us something.

The most avid readers of Into the Wild – In the extreme lands of Jon Krakauer will perhaps already have his name in mind: the details that unite the story of McCunn to that of McCandless are in fact different, and the American essayist had in fact underlined it. Specifically: Alaska, the passion for wastelands and solitude, and food, in fact.

Born in 1946 in the newly divided Munich of Germany, he had grown up in San Antonio, Texas, and after abandoning his military career in the Navy where he had fought for four years he had moved first to Seattle and then further north, to Anchorage . It’s the late seventies, and McCunn feels an initially indistinct call in him. The city, however sparsely populated (to date it has fewer than 300,000 inhabitants) is still too much a city.

The thirty-year-old’s mind looks further north, much further north.

At Fairbanks, here’s where. Exactly 359 miles further north, and straight into the heart of Alaska.

Perhaps the name Fairbanks will also tell you something.

1981. McCunn is led by a bush pilot to about 225 miles north-east of Fairbanks, just from Wikipedia, near a lake not even christened. He intended to spend five months in total solitude to photograph the wild fauna and unspoiled nature of the area. He had 500 rollers, 1400 pounds (or 640 kg) of supplies, two rifles and a shotgun with him.

Apparently he had agreed with the pilot about “exfiltration” in August, but apparently they did not understand each other: no Piper showed up at that time, and McCunn hoped then that the father, or friends to whom he had sent his position, they go in search of it. However, the geographical coordinates sent are absolutely approximate.

He notes in his notebook: “I think I should have used more foresight to organize my departure. I will find out soon.” Arrived in mid-August, it is now certain that he will have to ration the supplies and start hunting.

The testimony of an Alaska State Trooper about the sighting of McCunn’s camp remains one of the darkest episodes of the whole affair. The man then admitted that he had flown over the area and seen the photographer, but that he had not noticed any sign of need or request for help from him.

Yet McCunn still notes in his diary: “I remember raising my right hand, my shoulder high and clenching my fist on the second passage of the plane. It was a little cheer, like when your team scored a touchdown or something. It turns out that is the signal for ‘ALL O.K. – DO NOT WAIT!‘. “It’s certainly my fault if I’m here now! … Dude, I can’t believe it. … I really feel like a *! Now I know why nobody showed up since that incident.”

But there is another dark point: that of the hunters’ hut (full of provisions) located not far from the camp. McCunn is certainly aware of it, but it was never clear why he did not use it: another State Trooper had indicated it to him during the preparation of his trip. It could be a good shelter in case of bad weather. But perhaps it was the bad weather that did not even allow him to reach it.

Carl McCunn therefore tries to place traps but with little success. Before November, the food is out of stock; consider walking 75 miles (about 121 km) to Fort Yukon, but the snow and its now weak conditions will not allow it.

On November 26 his notebook reports “dizziness and continuous tremors”. There is only one thing to do.

He takes his own life with one of the rifles, leaving a letter to his family, who mobilized in his search only at the beginning of 1982: on February 2 a rescue plane in fact finds its field, and the rescuers find the body frozen and emaciated at the inside the tent.

McCandless, Krakauer is sure, was aware of the McCunn affair, which went largely unnoticed at the time.

A lot of people die in Alaska. And those who have no experience, or underestimate the psycho-physical preparation required, or minimize the skills to possess, are at the top of the list.

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